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{A well needed conversation between the two—about picking up the pieces and moving on...}

—————-

He stood, again, in the same lonely room—dust, cobwebs layering every inch of furniture in there.

He just felt numb—all the anguish and pain from that day highlighted in his mind again, of him screaming out for his Jiju, while that car went up in flames.

Those flames...those burning, fiery, red flames...and all he could do was just stand there and watch.

It wasn't just him, though, but the many others present there as well.
Even they all ...just stood by and watched.
As he BURNED. His Jiju burned right there in front of him.

He clenched his fists hard, flaring his nostrils—struggling to control his breathing. His tears falling freely on the dusty carpet below.
He stood still in the very same position as he had entered in—feeling even more tired now...as he willed the pain to go away. For once.

Just then, he heard a slight clink of bangles, and he knew immediately ....she was standing right there.

He turned slowly, to look into the tearful eyes of his wife now—being bewildered either with the state of the room—or him—or the combination of both.

Imlie stood quietly at the doorstep and slowly tried to come forward, contemplating hard, still unsure if he'd welcome another in this  space.

This very space —that caused misunderstanding between them ever so often.

It had always been symbolic for him—and Imlie knew that—because with this room, it also meant entering the deepest most darkest part of his life. He had always told her, always, that this room would be off limits.
Somewhere, deep down, however curious she had been, however many sobs and sniffles she might've heard from this very room, during late nights in the past, she couldn't bring herself to step into it—but today was different.

Today, she had entered —as his wife, and took the necessary step ahead.
She walked into that space—and with that, into that very aspect of his life, which had always been excruciatingly painful for him.

She called out to him softly,  "Aryan..."

When he didn't turn, she cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder—feeling his stance turn rigid— as he still felt hesitant to turn around.

She knew now, he was hiding her tears from him, but she wanted to meet his eyes,

"Please Aryan...look at me."

He scrunched his eyes shut. That soft plea in her voice, it made him immediately want to let her in.

After the conversation with his sister the other night, while looking through the wedding photos, he had actually willed for his revenge to wane away, to see the bigger picture—of his entire family together. Happier.

But before anything else, he knew that he had to make peace with this room—this very room that was a treasure trove of memories for him...of Arvind.

Of a time that stood still in this room.

In the course of everything, he also realised he had no right to claim this room for himself and torture his sister off her memories with her late husband...no right! None whatsoever.

But to let this go...would mean to truly let it all go.

And he had finally entered here tonight, in the hopes of doing just that.

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